


Crowley and Aziraphale Play Well With Others

by mountagrue



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Aziraphale is the Dance Commander (who gives the orders here), Aziraphale's special brand of highly fruity dirty talk, BDSM, BDSM Scene, Crowley is a very subby rope top, Crowley's Tongue (Good Omens), Cunnilingus, Dirty Talk, F/M, Impact Play, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Multi, Multiple Orgasms, Other, POV Second Person, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Reader-Insert, Service Top Crowley (Good Omens), Shibari, Spanking, Threesome, Top Aziraphale (Good Omens), Vaginal Sex, alright?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-25
Updated: 2019-09-25
Packaged: 2020-10-28 03:23:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20771723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mountagrue/pseuds/mountagrue
Summary: There's a queer BDSM club or two where you might run into a pair of ineffable husbands (or wives, or, well, etc - somehow nobody ever asks awkward questions about that bit) looking for a human to have a bit of fun with.





	Crowley and Aziraphale Play Well With Others

**Author's Note:**

> What has this fandom DONE TO ME? Five minutes ago I was like "why would I read a character/reader fic? I don't want to be myself in this story! I want to project onto a pre-existing character like God intended!" and then I remembered my Dom/service switch/sub threesome kink and, like, this happened. What the fuck?
> 
> Anyway, I don't think I'm done with this concept so expect more chapters at some point exploring different kinds of reader character and me continuing to enjoy the duck out of being in a fandom with plug'n'play genitalia fanon.
> 
> No promises but feel free to leave a comment and tell me if you want some particular combination or kinks to go on my list!
> 
> This chapter we have:  
Reader insert has tits and a vulva and no third-person pronouns.  
Crowley has a dick.  
Aziraphale either has a vulva that doesn't get involved in the proceedings or hasn't made an effort at all in order to focus his Dom Energy more purely, I honestly can't decide. Either way there's some stone top and/or grey ace vibes happening if that's your sort of thing, I don't think I'm writing this Aziraphale as definitively fitting those labels but it's at the very least a mood he cycles through.  
Kinks: see tags.
> 
> Thanks to [narcissisticSpaghetti](https://archiveofourown.org/users/narcissisticSpaghetti) for beta.

You wouldn't normally go with two men, not even if they were a couple. But they're regulars that lots of people vouch for, and in any case you don't get precisely cis male vibes off them. (You're a sub who likes cock, there's been a fair amount of cis men and you feel somewhat qualified to assess their vibes.) You've certainly heard at least four different pronouns used with confidence to refer to Crowley when you asked around.

In any case, when it comes down to it you can't resist the opportunity. So here you are in one of the club's back rooms, negotiations done with and safewords exchanged, a frisson of fear-shame-arousal running down your spine as you take all your clothes off in front of two man-shaped beings, one in a highly unlikely cream and beige suit and the other in more contextually appropriate leather pants and a mesh shirt that shows off his snake tattoos.

And then the one that introduced himself as Mr Fell, "But I go by Aziraphale in here, because I can, you know," brushes some nonexistent dust off his lap and gestures to it. "When you're ready," he says.

You swallow a little nervously, but honestly - they're holding hands. It's kind of sweet. You're not even sure which one's the top, or if they both are and that's why they look for a third. You step forward and arrange yourself a little clumsily on your belly across Aziraphale's lap.

"Hands behind you, please," he commands.

And then it's your naked skin pressed against the rough fabric of those old-fashioned trousers, little tingles whenever it scrapes against your nipples as you squirm, one of his strong hands holding your wrists in the small of your back and the other steadying your hip.

"There, darling, quite an appropriate canvas for your arts, wouldn't you say?"

"Thank you, angel," Crowley says with an animal grin, stretching his fingers and shaking out his wrists. Then he kneels in front of Aziraphale with practiced grace and puts those hands to work on you.

He starts with a few light slaps, enough to make you start a little and feel Aziraphale's grip tighten on your body as he holds you in position, enough to make you blush as you feel your buttocks jiggle. More than enough to accelerate the tension already building in your clit. By the time he works up to something that actually stings a bit you can feel a slick little trickle coming out of you. When the next hit lands just where your arse meets your inner thigh, a glancing blow to your pussy lips just from his fingertips, you can't hold in your moans any longer.

"Very nice," Aziraphale remarks in tones of detached appreciation, as though he's admiring quality wood-carving.

"I'm just getting started," breathes Crowley, rubbing his thumbs up and down your inner thighs. "Fair warning, you're going to have to m- er, wash your trousers."

"My dear boy," the man holding you down replies. "The day I prefer clean trousers to a dripping-wet cunt, you may assume some kind of foul play from Gabriel and his cronies. Besides, you know very well I'm going to have you do the clean-up for me."

"Yes, yes, alright." Crowley rolls his eyes and gets back to it. He sets a steady rhythm as he works his way methodically across your arse, overlapping target zones like a shield wall until every millimetre of skin is burning and your eyes are wet (well, not just your eyes). Then he gradually speeds up, choosing places to hit seemingly at random, working down your thighs, too, until you're moaning continuously, rocking your hips into Aziraphale's firm grip. Displaced air from a nearby spank breezes across your slick cunt, making you shiver and clench around nothing. It takes you some time to catch up when he slows down and moves seamlessly into just kneading, thumbs rubbing little circles into your smarting skin, spreading your cheeks to get a better look at you.

"What do you reckon?" Crowley proudly displays your red arse and wet pussy to Aziraphale like a cake fresh from the oven, and his husband responds in kind, with a little "mm" of approval and anticipation.

"Excellent work, darling," he says, stroking lightly across your stinging flesh. "Oh yes, this is lovely. Nothing quite as satisfying as beautiful rosy cheeks framing a nice, wet, hungry cunt."

Then Aziraphale cups your entire vulva with one hand and says "Now, dear, if you can rub off against my fingers in five minutes you may have an orgasm before the next part - otherwise you'll have to wait."

Gritting your teeth against a flock of whimpers and hiding your bright red face in the curve of his hip, you rock your hips desperately into his steady palm. You're right on the brink when he says "Time's up!" and removes his hand, still holding your wrists tight with the other to stop you chasing it.

You sob in frustration and Crowley says "Angel, that was cruel."

"Oh, really now," says Aziraphale fondly. They communicate something or other in silence, presumably mostly using their eyebrows, and then: "Very well, you old softy." Then he places his sodden palm, smelling of you, right over your mouth, and commands "Lick." You groan but start to lick your own juices off his hand.

The next thing you know there's a strong, thin tongue twisting itself around your clit. With how worked up you were, the ache settling into your arse, Crowley's hands on your thighs and his hot breath panting against you as you suck desperately on Aziraphale's fingers, it only takes a few slides of that tongue before you white out in pleasure.

Once you recover enough to understand language again, you can hear them discussing what to do with you - still in calm, slightly detached tones of voice, as though they're agreeing on where to go for lunch.

"On the other hand, I've been wanting to show off my shibari," Crowley is saying. "Those are some good tits for it, don't you think?"

"Oh, yes, they're lovely," says Aziraphale. "All right, then, how's this?"

And then strong hands are lifting you, turning you upright and seating you in his lap.

"Just sit still now and let Crowley work, there's a love," he murmurs in your ear, holding your wrists loosely against your hips. You make some sort of noise of assent and manage to focus your eyes on the lanky person still kneeling in front of you, now measuring out lengths of black rope with a frown of concentration.

He loops the rope around you expertly and you try to resist squirming and rubbing your spanked-sensitive skin against the rough fabric of Aziraphale's trousers. When Crowley leans in close to cinch the rope tight around your breast, squeezing it exactly right, and you feel his hot breath teasing your nipple, you can't resist squeezing your thighs together to try and get some pressure on your clit.

"Ah-ah-ah," tuts Aziraphale, letting go your wrists to grab your thighs and spread your legs. He parts his own thighs under you and hooks your legs over his knees, holding you wide open. "Greedy, aren't we? And when Crowley very generously made you come just now."

You whimper and flop back into his chest as Crowley moves on to your other breast. He's leaning up between your legs now, leather trousers just brushing your inner thighs next to Aziraphale's fingers, and you suddenly want one or both of them inside you with such ferocity you can feel your pussy clenching on nothingness. You can't even feel an erection under you in Aziraphale's lap, and you think you might actually die if they keep playing with you but don't fuck you. You try to convey this without actually engaging your verbal reasoning skills, which have been MIA since about halfway through the spanking, and somehow Crowley at least seems to understand you. Or perhaps it's that he's been in your position and knows what it's like to want to get fucked so desperately.

"Don't worry, sweetheart," he whispers, adjusting his ropework minutely. "Aziraphale likes making people wait, but we'll get you there eventually."

You sigh, but lean forward on command to let him tie your hands behind your back. By the time he's done, your breasts have been tied long enough to feel swollen and incredibly sensitive, and the brush of your nipples against his mesh shirt is driving you absolutely crazy.

He looks back up at Aziraphale. "Legs?"

"Oh, yes, darling, I do think so. Here, bind them like this so I can use my hands." 

"Yes, angel," says Crowley, and kneels down again to tie your legs to Aziraphale's in their present, spread-eagle position. Somehow, even with rope being applied to his own body, you sense that Aziraphale is fully in control of this situation.

Finally Crowley seems to be satisfied with his handiwork. He raises an eyebrow at his husband, who looks over the knots with a practiced eye and then says "Very good, darling" so warmly that you can practically see Crowley melt into a puddle of goo.

"Now then," he murmurs in your ear with supreme confidence. "You were a little bit naughty earlier, weren't you? Crowley, what are we going to do about that?"

Crowley cocks his head to one side and considers the entire tableau, your legs spread open and your tits straining out of the tight harness, Aziraphale's hands resting casually on your hips.

"Pegs?" says Crowley. 

"Mm, on the labia?"

"Yeah, exactly. And then get the toolbox out, I think, work on those tits and thighs a bit."

"Perfect," says Aziraphale. "Get to it, then."

Crowley gets to it - he pulls out a pile of clothes pegs attached with rope and applies them to your pussy lips one by one in a series of tiny pinches. You try hard to keep still, although the pressure and the pain and just the sight of it has your cunt dripping a little again. It feels like Aziraphale's strong hands are all that's holding you on this plane of existence. Crowley works his way up the left side and back down the right but leaves one peg unclipped in the centre, just dangling menacingly above your clit. Once he finishes with the others, he comes back to that one, tying another small piece of rope to it and attaching the other end to your breast harness. 

Then he says "Ready?" 

You nod, and he clips the last peg snugly onto your clit, and you howl.

"Very good," says Aziraphale. "You've done so well, both of you. Now, Crowley, get the toolbox. Do you think you can take a little more impact play, dear?"

You groan in anticipation, nodding firmly, and he strokes your side like a man calming a favourite horse.

Crowley has pulled out a large black box, and now he kneels in front of you again and flips the lid open, revealing a promising selection of floggers, paddles and other interesting instruments. He spots you looking at the pinwheel and smirks, holding it up. 

"A little of this, first?"

You nod again, licking your lips, and he starts to run the pinwheel across your left breast. Your skin is drawn so tight that every pinprick feels like a needle - in fact, as he strokes it back and forth and around, it's not a dissimilar sensation from getting a tattoo. Oh, but when he reaches your hard nipple you can't help crying out with it, and Aziraphale tightens his grip on your waist and says "You like that?"

"That seems fairly obvious, angel," says Crowley, switching to the other breast, faster now, long strokes like a watercolour artist flinging his brush across the page.

"Oh, yes, but people always like to hear that someone's noticed, don't they? Yes, dear, I think you want that very much. Not to worry, I'm paying close attention to your arousal. All those little wriggles and noises, and, of course, this…"

He trails off and slides one hand down your belly to your aching pussy, flicking the peg on your clit very lightly to make you moan again before stroking one finger all the way down your slit and back up again, not lingering a moment at your desperate hole.

"Oh yes, my dove," he breathes in your ear. "You're absolutely sopping, aren't you? Crowley, would you like another taste?"

You bite your lip, anticipating another touch of that fantastic tongue, but Aziraphale merely holds his finger up and Crowley sucks your wetness off it hungrily without pausing his torment of your quivering breasts.

"Lovely," Aziraphale murmurs. "He does have a beautiful mouth, my dear, and I may let you have it again later on. Crowley, I think it's time to move on to one of the floggers, don't you? Try the mule deer, you can really work up to a hard swing with that one."

"Yes, angel," says Crowley, a little muffled as he still hasn't released Aziraphale's finger. He gives it one last kiss and bends down to the toolbox, replacing the pinwheel and picking up a red and black flogger.

Aziraphale uses his wet finger to circle each of your nipples once, making you shiver, before replacing his hand on your hip. Crowley gives the flogger a few little swishes in the air and then starts to work on you, using a figure eight motion to smoothly whack the inner side of each breast in turn. He starts with light smacks that your oversensitised skin accepts as a flurry of pure pleasure. By the time he works his way up to a real thuddy impact you're moaning continuously, your head thrown back on Aziraphale's shoulder as you rock your hips, instinctively trying to get some pressure on your clit from  _ something _ .

"Wonderful," says Aziraphale. "The thighs now, I think."

Without missing a beat, Crowley steps back a little and drops to one knee, bringing the flogger down on your thigh as he goes. You cry out in shock at the impact on fresh skin, but he keeps moving, slapping first one thigh and then the other, faster and faster as you writhe and whimper in Aziraphale's arms. You're starting to float now, and you don't know how long it's been when Aziraphale says "Just a little harder, darling," and Crowley somehow manages to redouble his efforts. You've never felt this kind of impact from a light flogger like this - your doms normally switch to something heavier once you're all warmed up. It's a miracle the thing hasn't snapped in two, but you certainly don't have a brain cell to spare for thinking about that. 

You're absolutely flying now, hearing the slaps and thuds and Crowley's heavy breathing as though from another room.

"That's good, darling," Aziraphale is saying to Crowley. "You're doing so well, can you hear those moans? Can you see that little pussy glisten? It's so wet for you, darling."

"You're - having - no effect - at all, of course," Crowley manages.

"Don't be smart, love," Aziraphale says primly. "Now, if I recall correctly, somebody wanted to be fucked tonight?"

"Somebody - is absolutely - _ dying _ to get - fucked - angel," Crowley pants. 

"Well, then, I think you'd better oblige," says Aziraphale. "Get your lovely cock out for me, darling, and let me see you put it to use."

"Hell and sixteen limbos, angel, your  _ mouth _ ," Crowley groans, dropping the flogger and yanking his pants open.

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean," Aziraphale says innocently, as Crowley slides a condom on. "Now, don't forget these, darling," he adds, reaching around your body to untie the knot connecting your breast harness to the peg zipper.

"No chance," Crowley growls, grabbing the rope in one hand with the other already positioning his cock (which is indeed pretty lovely).

You've hardly caught your breath from the flogging when he yanks down and pulls the zipper off your pussy, mirrored pegs on each side popping off simultaneously in a starburst of pain followed immediately by the next pair, and the next, a cascade of sensation you've no time to process because the minute your cunt is bare he's already sinking into it.

You've been wanting this so long that finally getting it is overwhelming. The blood rushing back into your clit and pussy lips where the pegs have come off makes them extra sensitive and the slap of Crowley's groin against you every time he bottoms out is excruciatingly good. His cock is sliding through your long-saturated cunt like a frictionless tube out of a physics problem set, pushing into all your sweet spots over and over again as he fucks you hard and fast, fingers digging into your hips right at the crease of your thighs, leaning his forehead on your chest with his face pillowed between your taut, sweetly burning tits. Aziraphale has spread his legs wider, pulling yours with them, leaving your body deliciously, helplessly open for Crowley to plunder. You can hear your own wanton moans echoing around you, you can feel Crowley's grunts of effort on your skin, you can feel Aziraphale's hands roaming, now scratching fingernails down your aching thighs, now caressing the sides of your trapped, sensitive breasts, now moving off you to do something to Crowley that has him moaning into your cleavage and stuttering a burst of short, hard thrusts into your cunt. He's been talking all this time, as well, but you've only just settled into the three-ring-circus of sensation enough to process his words at all.

"Wonderful, simply marvelous," he's saying. "You're both doing so well, so lovely, it's a real treat to see up close. Those noises are simply fantastic, dove, I can tell you're getting close to orgasm, and if I'm not much mistaken this one's going to be a doozy. Oh, Crowley, do get your tongue involved, isn't your mouth watering over these beautiful tits?"

"Yes, angel," Crowley pants, turning his head to the side enough to suck a hickey onto the side of your breast that makes you scream with indistinguishable pleasure and pain. He snakes his long tongue out and wraps it round your nipple, a wet rough slide that has you writhing under him, before starting to tug on it in rhythm with the thrusts of his cock inside you.

"Oh God, oh God," you moan, tossing your head back and forth on Aziraphale's shoulder.

"Afraid not," Aziraphale says dryly. "Just us, dear. Would you like to come now?"

"Please," you groan.

"Very well." He reaches in between you and Crowley and starts to massage your vulva in gradually shrinking circles around your clit. When he reaches it he keeps circling around and over it with two fingers, and he keeps his touch light except when Crowley's pubis presses his fingers rhythmically into your bruised flesh. Then he works his other hand underneath you to stroke the slick skin just beneath your hole and feel Crowley sliding into your cunt.

"Lovely," he murmurs, and slips a finger in alongside Crowley's cock, adding a delicious extra stretch. "You may begin."

"Oh fuck, oh yes," you shout as the pleasure crests and you feel your pussy start to clench down erratically.

"Angel," Crowley pants through gritted teeth, letting go of your nipple but still fucking you hard and fast. "Please?"

"Not just yet, darling," Aziraphale says soothingly. "I want to get a few in a row out of this one."

"Nrgh," groans Crowley, but he keeps on steadily pushing his cock in through your wild contractions. He turns his head and sucks another hickey into your other breast, and another, and another, and Aziraphale keeps rubbing your clit and you're not sure if you're having a very long orgasm or if you've tipped right over into a second.

"All right, darling," Aziraphale says finally. "On a count of three, I want you to pull out and come all over these lovely tits for me. One, two… three."

Crowley obeys instantly, moaning almost as loud as you are. As he pulls out and stands up in one fluid motion, Aziraphale replaces his cock with three fingers inside you, still kneading your aching clit like clockwork. Crowley leans forward, one hand braced on Aziraphale's shoulder and the other tugging the condom off frantically, and splashes his come all over your tits just as Aziraphale's hands drag you squealing into a third peak.

"Perfect," he purrs, and you'd swear that yanks an extra spurt of come out of Crowley and onto your heaving chest.

For a moment there's no sound except panting and whimpering (you: still coming a bit, Crowley: as deep into subspace as you've ever seen somebody who was just wielding a flogger), and then Aziraphale, that mad bastard, says "You know, I'm really feeling number four today. Crowley? Knees."

And before you can say "What? Four!?" Crowley's dropped like a stone to kneel in front of you again, hands on your thighs, tongue licking frantically over your pussy and Aziraphale's fingers indiscriminately. Then Aziraphale, quick as a viper, darts his hand off your clit and into Crowley's hair, pulling him forward. And when he follows his husband's tug and puts his mouth over your clit and _ sucks _ , to your disbelief you can feel number four coming on. It's sort of like an out-of-body experience. Most of your body in fact is sprawled bonelessly over Aziraphale's lap, and it's like you're hovering above it watching your own throat arch as you drop your head further back on Aziraphale's shoulder, watching Crowley's come dripping lazily down your chest, pooling above the ropes of the harness, watching his sweat-darkened red hair twined around Aziraphale's pale fingers as Crowley's tongue almost certainly breaks some law of physics shoving into your cunt alongside Aziraphale's fingers, Crowley's upper lip still rubbing gently along your clit, oh-


End file.
